


This Love Has Led Me to the End (the Rough Waters Remix)

by imagines



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood Magic, Bottom Shiro, Edging, Incubus Keith, M/M, Missing Scenes, Modern AU, POV Flip, Remix, Ritual Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 18:02:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19156120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imagines/pseuds/imagines
Summary: Shiro takes a deep breath. Fuck it. He already knows the right words. “May I kiss you?” he says in a rush, and he’s barely got the final syllable out before Keith is crushing his mouth to Shiro’s, arms tight around Shiro’s waist. Lightning flashes in the sky and in Shiro’s belly. Keith is devouring his mouth andmovingagainst him, and the storm inside Shiro builds like a hurricane. Everywhere they’re touching, energy arcs between them, flowing out of Shiro in wild waves.Everything changes in an instant. Shiro jerks back from Keith, and he doesn’t know which of them looks more startled. Keith clearly has not mentioned a particular and not-insignificant detail about himself, although Shiro can’t really blame him for it. When one discovers their date is an incubus, the most likely reactions tothatinformation are skepticism, fear, or both.“I should go,” Keith mutters. He’s staring at the wet sidewalk, all the spark drained from him, even though that shouldn’t be the case at all, given what just happened between them.





	This Love Has Led Me to the End (the Rough Waters Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [geckoholic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/geckoholic/gifts).
  * Inspired by [This Life Has Left Me Cold And Damned](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15406215) by [geckoholic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/geckoholic/pseuds/geckoholic). 



 

Shiro notices the student on the very first day of class, even though he’s tucked himself off to the side of the room, halfway back. But as unassuming as he tries to appear, his gaze is locked on Shiro, for the entire fifty-minute period.

The same thing happens every session. The strange thing is, Keith doesn’t seem to need a class on mythology in historic sources. He already knows most of the material. He can quote books Shiro read during his PhD. He can quote Shiro’s own dissertation.

It’s barely a month into the semester when Keith—who has perfect attendance and a perfect grade to boot—comes up to Shiro’s desk as the last of the other students are leaving the classroom. “Um, I know this is a little unusual,” Keith says, and his voice shakes, but he’s looking at Shiro with the same intensity he has every day until now. “And I’ll understand if you say no, I’ll never bring it up again, but—”

Shiro waits. He has a feeling he knows where this is going.

“Do you wanna grab a drink after class sometime?” Keith asks. “Uh, together?”

There it is.

“Or coffee,” Keith adds. “Whatever you like better, I guess. It doesn’t matter to me—you know, I’m just gonna shut up now.” His laugh is shy, nervous, and he’s probably expecting Shiro to say no. Shiro would normally expect himself to say no, but Keith’s got him curious.

“I’d love to,” Shiro says instead. Keith’s mouth falls open. “Are you free today?”

Keith blinks a few times before answer. Shiro wonders if Keith thought he would get this far, if he even planned what he’d say next. “I… yeah,” Keith says. “I don’t have anywhere else to be. This was my only class today. I know a good place up the street?”

“Sure,” Shiro agrees. He probably would have agreed to anything, just to see where this goes. Keith is smiling now, a tiny smile, like he can hardly believe Shiro actually said yes.

The place Keith picks is a tiny bar packed with hungry students during a midday rush, but they manage to find an unoccupied booth in one corner. It’s so small that their knees keep brushing under the laminate tabletop, or maybe Keith just isn’t bothering to stay on his side.

Time stretches out effortlessly over an early dinner and a couple of beers each. Over the course of their conversation, Keith reveals a few more personal details: He’s taking Shiro’s course out of personal interest in the subject. He has a literature degree with a focus on Victorian writers, which helps explain his detailed knowledge of monsters in fiction. He hasn’t seen his mother since he was little, his father passed away before he was out of middle school, and he’s never gone looking for any other relatives. He states the facts of his life in a clinical manner, as if reading a biography page out of a history book, but when he says, “I wouldn’t know what to do if I wasn’t alone anymore,” the laugh he tacks on is pained.

Shiro knows he shouldn’t get attached so quickly, but his chest tightens with the urge to take away Keith’s loneliness. For it must be loneliness: the tension in Keith’s shoulders, the clench of his jaw, and his downcast eyes are beacons marking rough waters. When Keith abruptly changes the subject to an upcoming charity run being held by one of the student groups, Shiro doesn’t try to backtrack.

The waitress drops the bill on their table. Shiro starts to reach for it, but Keith pushes Shiro’s hand away. “Let me,” he insists. The moment of bare-skin contact is enough for a short burst of—something—to flash through Shiro’s nervous system. Almost like static electricity, but in a way that makes Shiro want more, instead of pulling back from the shock. For his part, Keith doesn’t seem to have noticed it, so Shiro decides not to mention it.

Keith himself is like static electricity, and Shiro finds himself drawn in, fascinated by his beautiful eyes, his quick mind, and the way he speaks to Shiro with absolutely no deference whatsoever. He’s on Shiro’s level and he knows it: he is in Shiro’s classroom not to absorb the lectures alone, but to seek out faint threads of knowledge that might lead to new revelations. “You should consider grad school,” Shiro tells him.

“So I’ve heard,” Keith says. “Maybe when I get some stuff figured out, I’ll give it a shot.” He does not elaborate, and their talk shifts to safer topics once again.

As they leave the bar, the skies open up, and Shiro yelps and ducks back under the awning of the bar. “I didn’t know rain was in the forecast,” Keith says, peering up at the clouds swirling in the dim late afternoon light.

“Guess it was. Want a ride?” Shiro offers, since his car is close by and he’s pretty sure he’s only seen Keith ride a bike to class.

“Hm,” Keith says, considering. “Yeah, okay.”

It makes something warm curl in Shiro’s stomach, Keith allowing Shiro to take care of him, even just a little bit.

* * *

At Keith’s apartment building, Shiro walks him to the door despite the rain. Under the portico, they stand face-to-face, pushed close together by the narrow entryway. Keith doesn’t seem to be in a hurry to go inside, and his gaze keeps flicking down to Shiro’s mouth.

“So, uh…are you a hug or a handshake type?” Shiro asks, not wanting to overstep.

Keith shoves his hands in his pockets, sets his shoulders, and looks up at Shiro with unrepentant desire etched into his expression. “Handshake if I don’t like you. Hug if I do. And sometimes,” he says, a coy little smile curling his lips, “I even kiss on the first date. If the right person’s asking.” (His ability to slam the ball back into Shiro’s court is honestly phenomenal.) He inches closer to Shiro—possibly just to get further away from the rain, but the way he’s biting his lip makes Shiro think maybe it’s another reason.

“Which kind of person do you think I am?”

“Ask me and find out.”

Shiro needs to ask with just the right words—not because he’s determined to make Keith say yes, but because Keith deserves the right words. In a low voice, he begins, “Keith—”

Thunder shatters the air right over their heads, and the gentle rain turns to a deluge, and Keith jolts forward, tripping over nothing and ending up pressed against Shiro’s chest. On instinct, Shiro wraps his arms around Keith, and—then they’re hugging, it appears. Keith doesn’t seem to be in any hurry to pull away, at least. He’s resting his forehead on Shiro’s shoulder, snorting with laughter. It’s one of the cutest things Shiro has seen him do all day.

“I swear I’m not usually that much of a klutz,” Keith says, tipping his head back so he can look Shiro in the eye. “I am in fact graceful as hell, I will have you know.”

Shiro’s not in a hurry to let go of him, either, even though the water running along the sidewalk is soaking their shoes. “I believe you,” he tells Keith.

They stare at each other for another long moment. It’s not as awkward as it probably should be. Shiro could get used to looking at Keith like this.

“So,” Keith says finally. “You had a question for me?”

Shiro takes a deep breath. Fuck it. He already knows the right words. “May I kiss you?” he says in a rush, and he’s barely got the final syllable out before Keith is crushing his mouth to Shiro’s, arms tight around Shiro’s waist. Lightning flashes in the sky and in Shiro’s belly. Keith is devouring his mouth and _moving_ against him, and the storm inside Shiro builds like a hurricane. Everywhere they’re touching, energy arcs between them, flowing out of Shiro in wild waves.

Everything changes in an instant. Shiro jerks back from Keith, and he doesn’t know which of them looks more startled. Keith clearly has not mentioned a particular and not-insignificant detail about himself, although Shiro can’t really blame him for it. When one discovers their date is an incubus, the most likely reactions to _that_ information are skepticism, fear, or both.

“I should go,” Keith mutters. He’s staring at the wet sidewalk, all the spark drained from him, even though that shouldn’t be the case at all, given what just happened between them.

 _You don’t have to_ , Shiro wants to say. _We can talk about it. I’ve been with others like you before. You’re safe with me_. But something tells him if he said any of that, Keith would bolt. If he’d wanted to tell Shiro, he would have. Tentatively, he reaches out to touch Keith’s shoulder, and Keith still doesn’t look up at him, but he doesn’t shrug Shiro’s hand off, either. “I’d like to see you again,” Shiro says. “If you want to.”

Keith’s little gasp is soft and oh so sweet. Shiro wants more, more, more. “Really?”

“Yeah. I had fun with you tonight. We seem to have a lot in common—” _More than you realize_ , Shiro doesn’t add— “and I really enjoyed talking to you. It’s been awhile since I went out with someone who could keep up with me in my area of study.” It’s been awhile since Shiro went out at all. His last breakup had hurt enough that he’d thought he might be done with the entire concept.

A tiny smile is sneaking its way back onto Keith’s face. “I had fun too,” he allows. “Um. It was nice to, you know, get to know you a little more outside of class. Maybe we could—” He sighs, finally lifting his head again. “Yeah, I’d really like to go out again.”

“I’ll text you,” Shiro promises, and grins when Keith nods hard. “See you later!” Then he dashes for his car, oblivious to the downpour, loving Keith’s laughter behind him as he dives into the driver’s seat. He’s gonna drip water all over the leather, but he can’t bring himself to care.

* * *

They go on three more dates—always at local bars promising loud music and cheap drinks, where Keith behaves as if he doesn’t know anyone, but they all seem to recognize him. Or at least they can’t stop looking at him. Given the circumstances, that’s not a surprise; Keith is supernaturally attractive after all, and Shiro’s being completely literal in that description.

Keith _still_ hasn’t brought it up, though, and Shiro is starting to wonder if he ever will. It’s probably not one of Keith’s favorite conversations to have with anyone.

The fourth bar makes a mean whiskey sour, a drink they discover is one more favorite they have in common, and pretty quickly, Shiro is feeling warm and playful. Keith is just _so_ pretty that Shiro can’t help but lean in and nuzzle the side of his throat, pressing his lips there, squeezing Keith’s slim waist and marveling at how delicate yet dense and powerful he is. Keith could probably throw him, Shiro muses to himself. He hopes maybe Keith will try it one day.

“Hey,” he whispers with a hand on Keith’s jaw, and Keith turns in his arms and kisses Shiro hard, like he’s starving for it. This is—Shiro thinks—their ninth or tenth kiss, perhaps, and just like all the other times, there’s that strange feeling like electricity being drawn out of him. But it’s just a kiss, he reasons. A kiss never killed anyone, least of all him, even in this rather unique situation. And the sensation isn’t unpleasant at all, even if Shiro does find himself a little more tired than usual the mornings after he goes out with Keith. What Keith requires, Shiro can provide, even if Keith doesn’t know it yet.

Then Keith pushes himself backward, hands firm on Shiro’s chest. “Sorry,” he says. He’s always apologetic after, as if he fears he’s taken too much from Shiro or enjoyed himself more than he should.

Shiro slides his hands to Keith’s shoulders, working his fingers into the muscles until the tension melts out of Keith. But Keith still looks a bit shaken. In the past few weeks, Keith’s face has turned pallid and drawn, and Shiro isn’t convinced Keith is taking care of himself like he should. The more time they spend together, the more Shiro is certain his suspicions are correct regarding Keith’s predicament, and it’s all he can do not to plead with Keith to let him help. “Hey, you doing okay?”

“Actually, uh—I don’t feel so good,” Keith tells him. “I better go home.”

Keith’s smile is gentle, maybe a little embarrassed, but genuine. Even so, Shiro can’t help the little stab of disappointment that shoots through him. It has to be Keith’s decision whether he opens up to Shiro, though. “Sure, I can walk you—”

“No!” Keith interrupts, sharp enough that Shiro winces, but his tone immediately softens. “I feel super nauseous. Might not make it home. The last thing I want is for you to watch me barf all over the sidewalk.”

Okay, that’s fair, even if all Shiro wants is to fuss over him, barfing or no. “Call me when you get home?” he asks. “So I know you got there okay?”

“Yeah, of course,” Keith agrees, and flashes Shiro one last smile and a little wave before hurrying out of the bar.

Shiro eyes the two drinks he’d just brought to their table. Maybe a few years ago, he’d have tossed both of them back and turned the evening into something wild and free, but he lacks the inclination now. Better to just call a cab and call it a night.

While he waits for his ride, he bites the orange slice and cherry off his cocktail stick, closing his eyes as the fruit bursts tart and sweet on his tongue. It’s been a good night anyway, he reasons. They’d danced till they were breathless and laughing; talked for hours about their hopes for the future; even held hands for a few moments. (The resulting power surge through Shiro’s fingertips nearly made him cry out.) He doesn’t want to get ahead of himself, but it’s still nice to know their dreams aren’t at odds.

Keith calls while Shiro’s still in the cab. “It’s me,” he says by way of greeting. “Just wanted to let you know I’m back safe. I’m really sorry I had to check out early.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Shiro assures him. “Get some rest, okay?”

Ending the call, he leans back against the seat. Exhaustion has already sunk deep into his bones, and he knows it’ll be a struggle to pull himself out of bed tomorrow. Luckily he doesn’t have to teach until his evening class. He doesn’t resent Keith’s needs, and he would have kissed Keith regardless, but it worries him how drained he feels—not so much out of concern for himself, but because it means Keith must be getting desperate. No wonder he’d shoved Shiro away at the bar like that.

* * *

Shiro is so tired by the time he gets home, his bedroom seems much too far away. Instead of making that trek, he collapses onto the couch in his living room, where the cushions swallow him up. That sensation of energy flowing out of him when Keith had kissed him—he’s felt it before, but it had never felt so _good_. This time it was almost like coming, he thinks. Losing himself to the magnetic attraction of another, giving himself over, letting himself be taken, breaking apart in Keith’s hands—

Although he’s worn out, he can’t help sliding a palm down between his legs. He’s half-hard, thinking of Keith’s dangerous mouth; of the care and caution Keith has shown with him. Keith could ruin him—but Keith has been protecting him instead.

He falls asleep like that, hand cupped over his cock, too exhausted to finish what his body has started. He dreams of a dark shape moving on top of him, within him, filling him up even as he’s drained to nothing. It should be a nightmare, but he wakes with dampness in his boxers, and the dream requires no interpretation.

Keith wants him like that; Shiro is sure of it. The question is whether Keith will ever ask to have him.

* * *

Keith’s next class with Shiro isn’t for another couple of days, and by the time Friday rolls around, Keith looks awful. His skin is an alarming shade of gray, and he’s gritting his teeth and weaving as he makes his way to his seat. Shiro starts the lecture, but he keeps looking over at Keith every couple of minutes. Keith barely raises his head, and he seems unable to keep his eyes open.

When Keith gets to his feet halfway through the period and drags himself out of the classroom, looking as if he could hit the ground at any moment, it’s hardly a surprise, but Shiro’s stomach drops anyway. He stops mid-sentence, uncaring of the whole class staring at him, and rushes out into the hallway after Keith.

Keith is on the floor, slumped against a wall, eyes closed. Shiro drops to his knees beside him, a litany of _no no no don’t let it be too late_ flying through his mind, and he breathes a sigh of relief when he checks Keith’s breath and pulse and finds they’re both in order, though his heartbeat is rapid and weak, and he’s trembling as if he’s cold.

A throng of students has come pouring out of the classroom. “He’s just fainted,” Shiro says, hoping he sounds decisive enough to quell concerns. “My office is right down the hall. He can lie down there and I’ll make sure he gets to a doctor if he needs one. You guys can leave early.” He hears them whispering as he lifts Keith into his arms—and he’s so light. _Too_ light. Keith really hasn’t been…eating. Not the way that someone like him should be, anyway. Keith groans and buries his face in Shiro’s chest, hiding his face from the ceiling lights. Shiro holds him closer and hurries to the safety of his office, where he lays Keith down on the couch and covers him with a throw blanket.

Keith is grimacing and shifting his legs, coming around a bit, though still not very aware of his surroundings. Shiro kneels next to the couch. “Keith?” he whispers. “Can you hear me?” There’s no answer, just another soft groan. Gently he strokes Keith’s hair back from his face, tucking it behind his ear. “Keith, you need to eat. You’re really sick.”

“Mhh…”

“Will you let me feed you?”

“Don’ wanna… not you…”

“I know you think it’ll hurt me, but I’ll be okay.”

Keith still doesn’t open his eyes.

“Okay,” Shiro sighs. “I wish I had another option, but I think you’re stuck with me tonight. I’m sorry.” He leans down, holding Keith by the shoulders, and seals his lips to Keith’s. The effect is like a power surge that starts deep in Shiro’s core and flows up through his chest and throat, straight into Keith’s waiting, hungry mouth.

Keith moans again, louder, more desperate, and squirms in Shiro’s grasp.

“Shh,” Shiro soothes him. “Just eat.” He kisses Keith again, tonguing open Keith’s mouth and releasing control over his own vital essence. _It’s yours_ , he thinks. _Take it; take what you need. I offer it to you freely_. He’s approaching his limit, he knows, and when the pleasant frisson turns warping and painful, he breaks the kiss and sits back on his heels, breathing hard. His heart is pounding, but he’ll be fine. His family is stronger than most when it comes to these things, after all.

He rests two fingers on Keith’s throat, and satisfied by the strong, steady pulse and Keith’s improved color, he tucks the blanket around Keith more tightly and lets him rest again.

* * *

Some time later, far into the evening, Keith awakens, disoriented and disbelieving as Shiro explains recent events. “I fed you,” Shiro informs him, and Keith’s eyes go wide, probably trying to figure out if Shiro means what it sounds like.

“What,” Keith tries, his voice dry and broken. “What are you talking about? What did you do?”

But Keith can’t seem to comprehend what Shiro tells him, no matter how Shiro phrases it. Shiro aches for Keith—it’s clear that Keith has been alone for a long time, and that whatever his feelings toward Shiro are, Keith doesn’t know how to handle them.

“I should leave,” Keith says, but he can’t seem to make himself do it.

Shiro can’t help but kiss him again for that. Yet even though Keith must still be hungry, he tries to pull away. His willpower is beyond imagination—but so is Shiro’s. He holds Keith still for a few beats, giving him just a little more energy, a little more time. Shiro would never force Keith to stay, though he hopes Keith will hear him out before making any rash decisions. “Sleep,” he tells Keith, and promises him a brighter morning—a brighter future, if all goes well.

* * *

Shiro wakes to the creak of his office door handle—he really should have expected that, he thinks, as he raises his head to give Keith his best disappointed look.

Despite Shiro’s insistence the previous night, Keith is still convinced his presence will damn Shiro to a short and painful life: “I’d rather _die_ ,” he bursts out, and it sends a spike into Shiro’s heart. Keith cares about Shiro so much, he very nearly did die. Whatever decisions they make here today, Shiro can’t allow that to happen again.

“I love you, too,” he tells Keith, and this shocks Keith into silence for a moment. Shiro isn’t joking, is the thing. He feels linked to Keith, and he’s certain that Keith feels it as well. He needs Keith to _know_ there’s a way out of his loneliness and hunger. Keith may still choose to leave after all that, but Shiro doesn’t want Keith to walk out of his life thinking that he’ll be nothing but a bad memory to Shiro. So Shiro fills Keith in on his family history, relating the stories of love he grew up hearing and explaining the companionship ritual that he’d learned and used successfully in the past.

“You’re asking me to imagine the impossible,” Keith says, though he’s begun to look a little less lost.

“No,” Shiro asserts. “I’m asking you to believe that your life holds more possibilities than you realized.” Keith trembles when Shiro brushes a thumb over his mouth. Shiro hasn’t stopped thinking about kissing him yet, and it looks like neither has Keith. “I’m asking you not to give up on yourself. I haven’t given up on you.”

“You want to be my companion,” Keith muses. “So basically, you’re proposing?”

“Not quite—it can be undone with another ritual. It’s meant to give us freedom, not to take it away.”

Finally, Keith asks how the ritual works.

Shiro’s been looking forward to answering _that_ question, and he’s amazed he manages to remain deadpan as he gives an outline: “Oh, the usual. Sex. A small blood sacrifice. More sex. Candles. Incantations. Even more sex.”

“Oh my god,” Keith mutters.

“You’re blushing,” Shiro helpfully informs him, petting Keith’s jaw.

“I am aware,” Keith bites out. “It’s. Uh. I have no. Objections. To any of that.”

“I need to pick up a few supplies first, but if you’d like to do it today, my schedule is open.”

Keith exhales sharply. “Supplies.”

“You know, you’re awfully flustered for an incubus.”

“It’s just—” Keith presses his palm to the back of Shiro’s hand, leaning into Shiro’s touch. “It’s you, that’s all.”

“Oh,” Shiro says, and it’s his turn to feel his cheeks heat.

“And yes, I wanna do it today. The sooner the better. I—” Keith is staring at Shiro as if he’s looking at something holy. “I want to be with you, Shiro.”

“You have no idea how happy that makes me,” Shiro says. “But I hope I can show you. Before we go, do you want another—” He touches his own lips, letting his gaze bore hot into Keith’s and watching Keith’s pupils dilate with a measure of satisfaction. Keith is going to feel so good when Shiro’s done with him.

“Are you sure?” Keith asks. “It won’t be too much?”

“Not at all,” Shiro breathes, stepping right into Keith’s space like he belongs there. He hopes he does belong there. Keith tips his head back so easily for Shiro, letting Shiro cup his jaw and pull him close, opening up to Shiro’s searching tongue, giving back as good as he gets. Shiro kisses him for the space of a few breaths—deep, hot, and wet—then breaks the contact, letting Keith pant for a moment while they both compose themselves. “More of that later,” Shiro murmurs.

* * *

Candles are the easy part. Shiro grabs a half-dozen pillar candles: cheap, plain, unscented, and a pale, unassuming shade of cream. They walk past a display of bread, so he adds a loaf to the cart as well. Keith raises an eyebrow. “What?” Shiro says. “I’m almost out.”

“I always want a good slice of toast after a sex ritual,” Keith says under his breath.

“Actually, I was planning to make us grilled cheese.”

“You were _not_.”

“I am now. Unless you have something against grilled cheese.”

“No, I like it.” Keith looks up at him from under his eyelashes, all faux innocence. “I’ve got something to hold against _you_ , though.”

Shiro almost crashes the cart into an endcap. “Keith!”

“You’re the one taking me back to your apartment so I can have my way with you,” Keith reminds him.

Somehow, they make it to the pharmacy section with the cart unscathed.

“You’d think neither of us had ever done this before,” Keith mutters, as they wander nonchalantly into the aisle where condoms and lube are located—tucked at the very end of the row in a small display that’s easy enough to pretend they’re not looking at.

“Well, it’s a bit different when you’re planning a sex ritual,” Shiro attempts to joke. “Don’t you think?”

“That, I never _have_ done before. Are you supposed to use anything in particular?”

“The ritual does not specify,” Shiro intones. “There’s no such thing as sacred condoms, as far as I know. This is more of a gentle binding ritual anyway, so purity is not the goal.”

“Okay,” Keith says. He selects a small box of condoms and tosses it into their cart. “I like these. Pick your favorite lube, I guess.”

Shiro’s stomach flips. This shouldn’t really be hot, he thinks. They’re standing in the brightly-lit Sex Aisle of the local grocery store, planning a sex ritual between two people who haven’t done more than kiss yet. But he can’t wait to get Keith home and show him how well Shiro can feed him. He’s burning with the need to bare himself to Keith and be taken by him; to see Keith sated and happy and gloriously full for the first time in who knows how long. “This one’s fine,” he rasps, grabbing something basic and cheap that he’s used to perfectly good effect in the past.

Keith takes a shaky breath. “We’re really doing this, huh?”

“We really are.” Shiro brushes the back of Keith’s wrist with his knuckles. “As long as you still want to.”

“Take me home with you right now, and you’ll find out how much I want to.”

“Impatient,” Shiro scolds, though his tone is mild.

“Well, I’m _hungry_ ,” Keith implores. “And you look delicious.”

“Oh, wow. Okay. We’re going now.” Shiro spins the cart around and heads out of the aisle at a good clip, Keith on his heels.

* * *

Keith thinks Shiro’s sci-fi novel collection is _cute_ , and somehow, this fact makes Shiro turn bright red. Deftly, he changes the subject to the location of where in the apartment he plans to let Keith fuck him, which is far less embarrassing.

After a little redecorating, they’re ready to begin. In the center of the circle on the living room floor, they kiss once more, and Shiro’s mind blows like a transformer. Their desperation for each other merges into an endless circuit as they strip each other of clothing and self-restraint. Shiro never wants to let Keith go, but abruptly Keith jerks back from the kiss, his panic sudden and sharp at the amount of power flowing between them. But Shiro can help with that, too. He soothes Keith with ancient words from a faded, worn notebook, bringing him back down to baseline, until Keith is ready to lay back and watch.

Shiro isn’t in the mood to take it slow today. On his knees before Keith and heedless of Keith’s open stare, he rocks down onto his own hand, moaning as his rim stretches around his fingers. Breathless, Shiro explains the rules: “You can’t let me come,” he tells Keith. “My orgasm, and you feeding off it, finishes the ritual.” Keith nods, dazed but agreeable. Shiro’s body clenches in waves, fighting against the intrusion, but he breathes through it until he’s thrusting into himself easily—until he’s wet and soft and open, all for Keith.

Keith isn’t a fan of the knife aspect of the ritual, but his compromise to avoid it is more than acceptable to Shiro. Their next kiss is harsh and biting and tastes of iron, the necessary blood exchange blending with the pleasure of Keith licking into his mouth, thigh pressed against Shiro’s cock.

Lost to the storm of sensations, Shiro grinds against Keith’s thigh until Keith’s thorough kissing threatens to make Shiro come undone much too soon, and he turns his head to collect himself and reach for the notebook again. The next passage can’t possibly mean anything to Keith either, but Keith watches intently as Shiro reads, as if there’s something for him to pick up on, anyway.

“It’s time to pick up the pace,” Shiro says. The bond has begun to weave itself between them, a gossamer strand growing incandescent as it absorbs their intent. Through it, Shiro catches fragments of Keith’s thoughts, and he’s utterly unfazed when Keith gets to his feet and comes a little closer, his cock roughly at Shiro’s eye-level and already wet at the tip. A flicker of uncertainty flashes through the bond—Keith, anxious as to whether Shiro wants what he wants.

Shiro does want, and he closes the distance between them, smiling up at Keith and watching his eyes widen as Shiro takes hold of him. He plays with Keith’s delicate foreskin, sliding it back and forth along the shaft and enjoying Keith’s whines. Finally, he takes pity on Keith and draws it back all the way, exposing the flushed, slick head of Keith’s cock. He teases just a moment longer, breathing against Keith without touching, then begins to lick and suck gently, keeping his mouth soft around the head until the muscles in Keith’s thighs are straining with the effort of holding still. Without warning, he takes Keith to the back of his throat, swallowing around his helpless little thrusts as Keith clings to him. When Keith’s nails dig into Shiro’s shoulder, Shiro pulls off, but he speeds up his hand until Keith is shouting and coming all over Shiro’s face and chest.

Keith has slightly misunderstood the instructions: “Do we have to start over?” he worries aloud, but Shiro clarifies that no, it’s only Shiro who can’t come until the end to make the ritual work.

“ _You_ can come as many times as you like,” Shiro adds, hoping Keith will take it for the challenge it is.

Keith kneels down again. “Come here.”

Shiro can hardly comply fast enough, letting Keith ease him onto his back with his legs spread wide; offering his mouth, his body, and his energy for Keith to take, fuck, and devour. He wants to be consumed by the flames of Keith’s need, rebuilt by the magic of the bond, and made new in the soft candlelight. He wants to be Keith’s, in every way Keith will have him. In the glow of the strengthening bond, he feels this longing equaled in Keith’s mind.

Keith fucks him so slowly that every thrust is a lightning bolt to Shiro’s composure. And Keith knows exactly what effect he’s having on Shiro. “Normally I'd take care of your dick now and jerk you off while I fuck you,” he says, as he folds Shiro almost in half and fucks in hard. “But you said we’re supposed to draw it out, right?”

Shiro wants to beg and curse, but all he manages is a shaking, shattered moan. Keith is aiming directly for his prostate on every stroke, but is refusing to hit it at any speed approaching helpful. “Nnn,” he tries. “The note…the notebook—” Keith drives into him again with devastating precision, and Shiro’s words break apart on another groan. “I need the notebook,” he finally gets out, on a breath between thrusts. Keith kisses him and withdraws—a sensation so overwhelming that Shiro nearly begs for Keith’s cock back inside him. But there will be time for that later, and they have a bond to complete.

Keith is rubbing himself against Shiro and coming again, splashing hot and wet across Shiro’s ass. Shiro can feel it dripping down over his hole, and that sends him so close to the edge that he needs a moment to contain himself before he struggles upright to fetch the notebook. His voice trembles as he reads from the next page. “One more passage,” he tells Keith. Just one more. He can make it, he _can_ , even if Keith is squeezing the base of Shiro’s dick as he uses his other hand to torment the head and shaft.

True to the agreement, Keith refuses to let Shiro come, holding him on the verge of orgasm until he’s almost crying, murmuring encouragement and praise. “You’re doing so well,” Keith tells him. “You’re almost there. Just a little longer. You can take it, I know you can.” The words are almost as bad as the touch for Shiro’s ability to restrain himself.

When it’s time for the last part of the ritual, Shiro can’t even speak, just waves in the general direction of the notebook until Keith hands it to him. He barely knows what he’s reading, lost in a haze of desperate desire. This passage is the longest, like some kind of terrible joke meant to torture the almost-companions, but Shiro forges ahead with perfect pronunciation. At the final word, Shiro tosses the priceless, irreplaceable notebook aside, pushes Keith to the floor, lines himself up with Keith’s cock, and takes it to the hilt in one motion.

The bond is blooming, fully realized now, a fiery vine blazing with flowers. Shiro cannot see it, but he can sense it; it’s something of a metaphor, depicting the way he has entwined his spirit with Keith. The two of them are stronger together than apart, and their possibilities are endless.

He kisses Keith, and if he thought the flow of energy felt good before, it’s nothing in comparison to now. Like an opened dam, his life force pours into Keith’s starving soul; like a reservoir, Shiro is filled anew by the old magic woven into the bond. Shiro is a conduit for power, and he could feed Keith forever if Keith needed him to.

But Keith’s fear is sparking up again, and he’s fighting his nature, holding himself back from what he needs.

“Don’t,” Shiro whispers. “Take what you need. It's okay.” He’s chasing his completion; rising and falling as Keith shudders beneath him; fucking himself into sweet oblivion. “You don’t have to go hungry, Keith. You don’t have to hunt anymore. You can have me.”

“How long?” Keith gasps, still doubting, but never taking his eyes from Shiro’s face.

Shiro understands. Keith is afraid, and all that will ease his fear is time. “As long as you want.”

Keith spills inside him, sudden and hot. As Shiro follows him to the end, a flood of energy bursts outward from the two of them and washes through the whole room, nearly putting out the candles.

Lying with Keith on the floor, in extreme need of a shower but unwilling to extract himself from Keith’s arms _quite_ yet, Shiro finds he isn’t plagued by bone-deep exhaustion this time.

“I can’t believe I found you,” Keith murmurs.

Shiro holds him tighter. “That makes two of us.”

“What you said…” Keith begins, but he takes a few seconds to continue. “When I said I’d rather die than hurt you.”

“Yeah?”

“Did you mean it?”

Shiro isn’t sure what Keith hopes he’ll say. He sticks with the truth: “I meant it, Keith. I love you.”

A long silence, during which Shiro starts to wonder if the ritual was a good idea. Now that reality must be setting in for Keith, maybe the bond is more than he wants with Shiro after all.

“Okay,” Keith says, and snuggles closer to Shiro’s chest. “Okay. Me too.”

Shiro shivers, his bare skin tingling with warmth everywhere they’re pressed together. If Keith isn’t careful, he’s going to get Shiro going all over again. Shiro kind of hopes he isn’t careful. “It’s that easy, huh?”

“You make it that easy.” Keith noses at the hollow of Shiro’s throat, the remnants of his hunger pulsing through the bond. “I was trapped on an endless road, and somehow, you led me to the end.”

Understanding dawns on Shiro, so bright it stuns him. Keith wants this bond; wants this future with Shiro. Keith’s search is over, Shiro realizes—and so is his own.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of my all-time favorite sheith fics, and I had a blast thinking up missing scenes and trying to get deeper into Shiro’s head in the original fic. I hope I’ve done it justice. <3
> 
> Many thanks to [Ashley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tootsonnewts/) for helping me whip this fic into shape. AN ANGEL OF A BETA.
> 
> Come say hello [on Twitter](https://twitter.com/belovedsheith)!


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